The Big Bang
by hellomaryland
Summary: "It's like she's the sun or something. She's this great big star with all this light constantly being emitted, singularly important within the galaxy, and he's the first scientist smart enough or lucky enough to discover her." / A Cat/Beck one-shot about the first discovery of first love.


**a/n: **_This literally came out of nowhere: I wrote it in 30 minutes at 3:45 in the morning. I think it's about the realization of love, falling in love...whatever you want to call it, whatever level of sap you want to reach. I was listening to this beyond perfect song called "Mermaids" by Jinja Safari...which you HAVE to look up and listen to while you read this, if you read this...and this is what I got. It's Cat & Beck because I **love** them. _

_And you already know I own nothing. _

* * *

It's like...it's like she's the sun or something. She's this great big star with all this light constantly being emitted, singularly important within the galaxy, and he's the first scientist smart enough or lucky enough to discover her.

Because no one's ever seen her before, not like this at least. He's sure of that because if they had, he wouldn't have had the chance to see her now. She would have been snatched up at their first glance, gone forever before he even knew what he was missing. She would be powering someone else's universe, lighting up every corner of it, sustaining all kinds of life, and love, and whatever else instead of ripping a giant, beautiful hole in his own space time continuum. He should be winning a fucking Nobel Prize for this, for finally seeing past her bright clothes, and unnaturally-colored hair, and polka dot backpack, and Velcro Mary Janes, and bright green fingernails to what exactly is secretly living and breathing inside of her. The fact that she's breathing so close next to him makes his own roughly seventeen times harder.

Her blue popsicle is melting even more quickly than his heart is pounding in his chest and little blue rivers are running down her fingers. She catches him watching and laughs out loud, hands splayed out next to her in confusion about how to remedy the situation because neither of them happen to have a stack of napkins conveniently on hand. It's not getting to her, really, because she's secretly the center of everything and stuff like this just rolls of her back, right? No one can penalize her for having blue hands when she is who she is. He pulls her empty, but equally blue, hand toward him and wipes it clean with the hem of his conveniently white t-shirt.

"Ohh, it's ruined!" Her voice is loud, but not shrill...it's sort of bell-ish, like she's signaling whatever powers-that-be to combine any and all forces they hold to remove any trace of blue from his shirt. But they're all too busy because the stain stays and even grows bigger when he makes her slip the last shred of frozen blue into her mouth so he can clean the popsicle-holding hand. She grins and holds the blue-stained stick between her teeth. He yanks it out and presses his red mouth against her now unnaturally blue one because he has to taste them: the blue smudges on her tongue. Sweet blueberry explodes into his mouth like some kind of solar flare, and he grins against her.

When he's finally had enough...although enough is never enough...he releases her, and she smiles up at him, and every star in the universe has apparently decided to converge in her eyes today because they're shining like nothing he's able to comprehend and he has to go back for more. And more. And more. And more. And if it weren't for her hand wrapping around his wrist, he may have never stopped because he has to take in every single bit of her sun before she spontaneously combusts, or someone else finally catches a glimpse, or she realizes just how incredibly dimly he shines in comparison.

Her not-blue, but still sticky fingers intertwine with his and she starts to pull him toward the sidewalk, away from their concrete picnic table and her purple sandals click against it and clash with it: neon against the dull grey, shining like the magical star that he can suddenly see she is.

The real sun is going down, but his newfound, proverbial sun is still going strong as she pulls him the direction of her house. He follows behind her like a lost puppy, caught in her gravitational pull and never wanting to leave because it's so safe, and strong, and sturdy. The whole of space is deep, and dark, and unknown, but he suddenly has the ruler of it all right by his side and fear is the last thing on his mind. She is the first: she's everywhere, casting her light onto everything in the whole of creation because it's her job...you can't see without the sun, can you? No. He knows that now: he's never seen anything before, not like this, at least. He's walked through his entire life in some deep-dark-space-induced haze until now. Now she's here, shining her light on his cobwebs and rescuing him from whatever potential evils lurk in the final frontier. Just when his oxygen was about to run out.

They reach her front yard and he almost has a chance to remember what hopelessness feels like before she whirls around and presses her forehead against his own. He traces her jawbone with his index finger and she giggles. He thinks he sees a firefly out of the corner of his eye, but he can't be sure because it is totally plausible that it was simply a reflection of the light she's giving off 24/7, 365, sparked by any smidgen of happiness she may feel. He has no idea where it comes from, what he says next, because it doesn't even really sound like his voice; it just slides out, though, so easy and natural, like he was born to say it, created by The Creator for the specific purpose of saying these words, and the universe has just shifted into it's right place after all these years because everything's been waiting for this moment, for the two of them:

"I love you."

For an instant, her smile falls away and her face is blank nothingness, bleak with the unknown of space, before it returns. It returns bigger and brighter than he's ever seen; the stars that usually shine in her eyes have been vacated to make room for the sun itself...the sun itself with fucking supernovas exploding behind it and he can barely take it all in without crying like a little girl. She spares him the embarrassment though when she takes his face in her hands and smashes it onto her own. It's the most beautiful thing he's ever felt, the most delicious thing he's ever tasted, and he wants it all, all to himself, all of his life.

She makes an attempt at pulling away, but his hands on her hips keep her from it. He pushes their mouths harder together and feels her smile. He can't let her stop yet because she'll say it back: he can feel it, it's coming, he'll hear his feelings reciprocated. And he needs prep time because if she just throws it out, he might collapse under the pressure of her everything-ness. He has to digest the idea that they are here, that she could possibly want him in a way even remotely similar to the way he needs her. He can only hope her gravitational pull will keep him from drifting off into nothing before he explodes into a million pieces.

Maybe she's not the sun, maybe she's the Earth and he's the moon, making constant revolutions around her, taking in her being from every side and every angle. Every ounce of life in the galaxy existing solely within her...maybe she's the sun, maybe she's the Earth, maybe she's the universe. And maybe he can live here forever.


End file.
